New River Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  “Spur of the moment,” I said. “I heard something and just went after it.”

  “We need some operational discipline,” she said. “He’ll keep slipping away.”

  “Now he knows someone is on to him,” I said. “He’s going to be more careful.”

  “I bet he hits the tents next,” she said. “He’ll want to stay away from the RVs for a while.”

  “Good bet,” I said. “We should let Palmer know what’s up.”

  Brody called him on the radio to fill him in. He sounded alert and ready. Brody took over our watch, and I went to bed. I was pleased that my legs had cooperated and stood up to my late night run through the woods. It was a positive sign that I wouldn’t be a slave to arthritis for the rest of my life. I had added magnesium to my turmeric intake, and it seemed to be working. The exercise was enough to tire me, so sleep came easily.

  I chased the camp raider in my dreams. I ran through the woods in the dark in a never-ending pursuit. Small branches whipped at my face and arms. Old stumps threatened to trip me. I hurdled over downed logs and swerved through the trees like a slalom skier, but couldn’t catch up to the man. I ran until I could run no more. I was miles away and lost. My knees hurt. Then Brody woke me up. The sun was rising, and I was in bed instead of lost in the wilderness. Over coffee, I suggested we consider a new plan.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said. “He’s fast, so all he has to do is run. We need to be in a position to head him off.”

  “Both on watch at the same time?”

  “With one of us between him and the woods,” I said. “Take him down before he gets into the trees.”

  “Or up the hill behind the bathhouse,” she said. “We don’t have enough soldiers to cover the entire battlefield.”

  “Let’s discuss it with Palmer when we see him,” I said.

  “I’ll let him know you’re up,” she said. “Invite him for breakfast.”

  Our deputy partner agreed to join us before getting some sleep. All had been quiet down in the tent camping area, but he’d been up all night two times in a row. He said he wouldn’t be much good to us if he didn’t get a good ration of rest before nightfall. I gave him the details of my encounter with the thief and offered to rethink our game plan.

  “We’d have to get lucky picking which zone he’s going to hit next,” he said. “But we could all lie in wait in one spot or the other. Try to surround him.”

  “And none of us gets any sleep,” I said.

  “Two up and one resting,” Brody said. “Take shorter shifts.”

  “Might work,” Palmer said. “We can refine the schedule as we go.”

  “I’d bet money he’ll show up down below next,” I said. “He should be shy about hitting the RVs again. Or try to wait until the camper that came after him leaves the park.”

  “You say he didn’t get away with any loot last night?” Palmer asked.

  “He was empty-handed when he ran,” I said.

  “Then he’s hungry,” he said. “He could very well try the tents tonight.”

  “All three of us will be there waiting for him,” Brody said.

  Twelve

  Brody and I got a good meal at the Shatley Springs Restaurant before we began our preparations for another night standing watch. We drove down to the tent camping area and found Palmer still asleep in my tent. We made a little noise to wake him instead of invading his privacy. I didn’t know if he had pants on or not. He crawled out rubbing his eyes and yawning.

  “That river is a great sleeping pill,” he said. “I needed that.”

  “Shake off the cobwebs before it gets dark,” I told him. “We all need to be sharp tonight.”

  “Says the man who slept through the intruder’s first appearance.”

  “Wait until you’re my age,” I told him. “Life hasn’t worn you down yet.”

  “What did you do for a living before you started investigating?” he asked.

  “Maritime consultant,” I said. “Spent a lot of time on boats in Florida and the Caribbean.”

  “What made you move to the mountains?”

  “We needed to get away,” I said. “We’ve got a secluded cabin where no one bothers us.”

  “Do you miss it?” he asked. “I mean the sun and the water and all that?”

  “It was great, but I’ve moved on,” I said. “Just came back from a trip to the Virgin Islands, as a matter of fact. Didn’t make me long for the old days.”

  “Sure is a big change for a person to make,” he said. “But I guess you had your reasons.”

  “He wanted to give his lady a more normal life,” Brody said. “The boat life started to wear on us both.”

  “We survived our first winter in the High Country,” I said. “So I guess we’re going to be okay.”

  “It wasn’t a bad one,” he said. “Other than that one big snowfall. I’ve seen it a lot colder.”

  “You’re not helping,” Brody said. “It was plenty cold for us.”

  We walked the grounds before dark, looking for good vantage points to set up an ambush. We decided that all three of us would be on duty until midnight. Whoever was most sleepy would take a two-hour break and then replace someone else. Palmer said he could stay up until four with no trouble. We’d begin to see the light again soon after six. Brody and I would be together during the last two hours of darkness. One of us would remain near the tent to survey the other sites, while the other would take up a position behind the bathhouse and within hearing distance. We had the radios, but we could yell at the man which would alert the person in hiding. If he tried to escape using some other route, we’d have to give chase, but at least there would be two of us. If we could remain in contact with him until the sun came up, he’d have no place to hide. We’d call Palmer to our position and the three of us would corral him.

  As Mike Tyson famously said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

  There’d been no sign of a trespasser when Palmer called it quits at four in the morning. I took his place behind the bathrooms, and Brody was awake and alert near the tent. Less than ten minutes passed when she yelled out.

  “Stop right there. We’ve got you surrounded.”

  I heard her call and readied myself for a physical confrontation. I hadn’t fought anything tougher than an emaciated meth head in quite a while. I was not a bruiser, but I was resourceful. If I could blindside the guy, I would gain an immediate advantage.

  “Sheriff’s Deputy,” I heard Palmer say. “Stay right where you are, and you won’t get hurt.”

  “He’s running,” Brody yelled.

  I heard his footsteps approaching the bathhouse. I crouched, ready to uncoil on the bastard. At the first sight of him, I exploded on him like a linebacker, driving my shoulder into his ribs. I tried to wrap my arms around him like a good tackler should, but took a knee to the side of my head instead. He was down, but I was momentarily stunned. I saw a flash of light before the pain hit me. It was enough for him to get to his feet. I shook off the blow and focused on my foe. My head was clear, and nothing was broken. I got a good look at him this time. He was slightly bigger than I, fit but not bulky; a bit on the lanky side. He was all knees and elbows and knew how to use them to good effect.

  Palmer came running around the corner, which caused the man to make a dash up the hill for the cover of thicker woods. I followed the deputy, and Brody was right behind me. If only I could have restrained the man at least for a few seconds, we would have had him. I used that two seconds to regain my functions after having my bell rung. Palmer was an animal climbing that slope. I didn’t even try to keep up with him. He fired his weapon in the air when he got to the top, hollering for the fleeing man to give himself up. The guy never broke stride. Palmer took off after him once again. He was leading us deeper and deeper into the dark wilderness, but this time, we had an armed cop with us. Ambushing all three of us would be impossible without a weapon. I hadn’t seen a gun on the man.


  I settled into a smooth rhythm to conserve my energy. I was running at a good pace, but keeping my heart rate under control and not fighting for breath. I could hear Brody jogging along just behind me. She was in better shape than I was, mainly because she didn’t drink like a mountain fish. I started sweating out some of the stored whiskey from my veins, even though I hadn’t had a drink in days. Palmer’s pace slowed, and I caught up to him.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “Running out of gas,” he said. “The dude ain’t quitting.”

  “You good, Brody?” I asked.

  “Good,” she said. “Keep going. He’s got to tire out sometime.”

  “He only has to keep running until we tire out,” I said.

  “Can you see him?”

  “Too dark, but I can hear him,” I said.

  “Stay together,” Palmer said. “This is his turf. Strength in numbers.”

  We did stay together, jogging along at a more comfortable pace until we lost track of our marathon man. We finally came to a stop in a small clearing at the bottom of a steep hill. It was a good place to give up our pursuit. If we continued, we’d have to climb that rise. None of us wanted to do that. We sat and rested until the sun poked down through the pines.

  We were miles from the campground with no water or food. None of us had gotten much sleep. We were exhausted from the chase and adrenaline expenditure, causing foul moods all around.

  “Fuck this shit,” Palmer said. “When we get back I’m going home. They’re paying me my salary, but it’s for eight hours a day, not twenty-four.”

  “This guy is not only fast, but he also has amazing endurance,” I said.

  “Freakish,” he said. “We’re not going to beat him in a race of any distance.”

  “Then we need a new approach,” Brody said. “We can’t let him win.”

  “I can,” Palmer said. “There’s probably some real crimes I can solve back in the world.”

  “We do seem to be putting a lot of effort into petty theft of food and drink,” Brody said. “It’s not really worth it.”

  I was outvoted two to one. I hated to give up on a mission. It went against everything I ever stood for, but they were probably right. The guy was trying to survive off the largesse of recreational campers. They weren’t overly harmed by the loss of a little food. They could go home and get all the chow they wanted, or drive to Shatley Springs for a good home-cooked meal. We still had a long hike in front of us. The walk was made more difficult by our feelings of frustration. Three capable adults had been foiled by one sandwich snatcher. It didn’t sit well with any of us.

  Halfway back, I heard the sounds of a stream. We were thirsty, so we diverted to it. The water was cool and clear. Not one of us hesitated to drink freely from the mountain spring. It was just what we needed. Revitalized somewhat, the rest of the walk was less miserable. Palmer didn’t hang around for five minutes. He gathered his things, walked out to his truck, and left the park. I wanted to go home, too, but I was too bushed to do it.

  “You want to lie down for a while before we pack up?” I asked Brody.

  “God, yes.”

  We slept for a few hours before activity around us made sleeping impossible. Neighboring campers had been awakened by all the noise we’d made and were naturally curious. Palmer had made them aware of our mission and the nature of the threat. We told them what we knew and that the guy was still on the loose.

  “Don’t leave anything out where he can grab it,” I said. “Put your coolers inside the tent or back in your car. Leave nothing you don’t want to lose out in the open at night.”

  They left, and we started taking down our tent and packing up to leave. We noticed most of the others doing the same. There wouldn’t be anyone left to steal from until a new group of campers arrived.

  I drove out of the park with a bad taste in my mouth. Some slack-jawed loser had managed to avoid us in spite of our best efforts. It would be a negative for our fledgling business. Word would soon circulate that we had failed, even after insisting on police help and additional resources. Ashe County wouldn’t be calling us again anytime soon. I could sense that Brody was fuming too. She hadn’t had a chance to contribute. The men had let her down, and now we were going home with our tail between our legs. She had spirit. She didn’t like losing any more than I did. It didn’t matter that it was an inconsequential case. We’d been given an assignment, and we hadn’t succeeded. It was a tough pill to swallow.

  We didn’t talk about it until we got home, which was after we picked up Red. He was beside himself when we showed up to get him. He spun around in circles and slobbered all over both of us. I hugged him tight and patted him down, calling him a good boy. He happily jumped in the car for the ride home. I stayed in the yard with him for thirty minutes once we got to the cabin. Brody went inside without unloading our gear.

  After Red was satisfied with the amount of attention he’d received, I went in to find her. She was neck deep in a tub of bubbles, with a glass of wine at her side and some smooth music playing. When I stuck my head inside the bathroom door, I got the hand. She was in no mood to talk to me at that moment. I smelled lavender in the air as I retreated to the porch to listen to the song of the creek. Red watched the birds come and go from the feeders as I stroked his smooth fur.

  Thirty minutes later, Brody came out with two beers. As she handed me one, I noticed she was wearing nothing under her robe. It was an enticing thing to see, but I was too tired to act on it. I really was getting old. After a few beers and several shots of whiskey, I changed my mind. I was not too tired, after all. Sweet sex with the lovely Brody took my mind off things even better than the booze did. Afterward, I slept for twelve hours straight. I woke up in bed alone to the smell of bacon cooking. The trip to the kitchen was an arduous one. The muscles in my legs were cranky, and my shins hurt like hell. On the plus side, my knees seemed to respond without much pain. I had given my legs one hell of a workout, and now I was paying for it, but any further damage to my joints seemed to be minimal.

  “You look a little wobbly,” Brody said.

  “Everything is sore,” I said. “But things held together. I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  “You surprised me out there,” she said. “I didn’t know you were a long distance runner.”

  “High school and for a while after,” I said. “You know, a hundred years ago.”

  “You’ve still got it,” she said. “But our fugitive runs like an Olympian.”

  “That gives me an idea.”

  “What does?” she asked.

  “The guy’s a runner,” I said. “A real one, like in track and field. We should be able to figure out who he is. Get some insight into why he’s out there.”

  “How do you want to start?”

  “Go online and find articles about track meets and such up in Ashe County from three or four years ago,” I said. “Failing that, we can call the schools. I can give a good description of the man now.”

  “At least it will give me something to do,” she said. “I hate that we had to give up, even as insignificant as the case was.”

  “We’d need a small army of fast runners to catch him,” I said. “Or a team of commandos.”

  “Which we can’t muster to catch a guy who robs picnic baskets.”

  “We need a real job that we can sink our investigative teeth into,” I said. “It’s gotten real quiet now that the weather is nice.”

  “I’ll call Angelina, and you call Rominger,” she said. “Keep our names out there. Something will turn up.”

  We talked to our police friends who each told us that all was quiet in their respective districts. Most of the college kids were gone or would be leaving soon. Fairs and festivals kept the natives occupied. Prom night had even passed without major incident. The meth cookers were keeping a low profile in this part of the state, although there had been a big bust in Charlotte recently.

  “Relax,” Rominger said. “This is why peop
le live here. Enjoy the calm.”

  Angelina had said much the same to Brody. A lack of trouble is a good thing for most people, but Brody and I were wired differently. I could enjoy serenity for a certain period of time, but sooner or later I’d get the itch for action. I appreciated nature, both on the boat and in the mountains, but I knew that trouble always lurked. That’s how my life had been. I couldn’t imagine things any other way. It seemed impossible that one could live for years with nothing but peace and quiet.

  “Maybe we picked the wrong place to chase mischief,” Brody said. “Soon we’ll be reduced to spying on cheating wives.”

  “That’s not beneath me,” I said. “Does it pay much?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “But I can look into it if you want.”

  “After you figure out who our runner is.”

  It took her several days of digging, but Brody hit on a likely suspect. There was a picture of Ed Pennington winning the cross-country conference championship from 2014. He was a dead ringer for the guy I’d seen in the park. The current version had a little more meat on his bones and a scruffy beard, but I was positive it was him. We found more photos from track meets where he’d won the 3000 meters events. The younger, skinnier Pennington had noticeably knobby knees and elbows. It had to be the same person.

  Ashe County High School was in West Jefferson, just off Highway 221. The Huskies fielded competitive teams in cross-country and track and field. The cross-country coach was still around from 2014. I wanted to talk to him. Brody made some calls and arranged for us to meet a few days later for lunch. The coach chose Wendy’s, which was close to the school. I hadn’t eaten fast food in forever, but we agreed.

  We arrived right on time and found the coach easily. He was wearing a Huskies windbreaker even though the temperature was close to eighty. He wore those old coaches’ shorts like my gym teachers had worn so many years ago, along with a nice pair of New Balance running shoes. He got straight to the business at hand.

  “Pennington was the best runner I’ve ever had,” he said. “He was conference champ both his junior and senior years.”